It’s a beautiful fall morning in Hillbilly Paradise, Alabama.
Oh, goodness. I always have too much to write about and on top of that people are always giving me good ideas, which I never write down and often forget.
When I do make notes to myself, they are cryptic and worthless. I was working on a story not too long ago. I’d finished writing for the evening. I’d already powered down the PC when a story thought zinged through my brain. The thought seemed so crucial I decided to write it down.
Here’s what I ended up scribbling in pencil on the back of a bank statement: EVERYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY MATTER. (Block letters. I’ve been printing in block letters since junior high. I thought it looked better. Perhaps it was a cry for help. That’s entirely likely.)
Yes, that was my crucial thought in all its glory – EVERYTHING THAT COULD POSSIBLY MATTER.